XXX Origins: Wolverine
by kasviel
Summary: Slash. Logan James / Wade. An unlikely affair during the Team X days gets more intense than expected.


**Author's Notes**

Once I got over staring at Hugh Jackman's chest and replaying the naked escape from the military base scenes, the first semi-lucid thought I had after seeing "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" was: "Damn, Wade and Logan would be a hot couple!"

This story is the result.

I would say this is an Alternate Universe, because I just don't think canon Logan is into guys much, nor canon Wade (I think?), and also due to the fact that the story strays a little from movie-canon, and might tie into my other X-Men story that strays from the movie-canon even further. There is also a lot taken from the comics, especially Wade's character: his dynamic with Logan here is almost like his dynamic with Cable, and his history, from the comics, is vaguely alluded to.

More importantly, some back story about other allusions made in the story: Wade Wilson, here, has old conflict with Stryker, and he knows about Stryker's mutant son. In this story, he holds that information over Stryker's head, causing conflict between himself and the Major, and that is the reason he was the Team X member killed first. He is also the one that leaked the information about Stryker's son to the higher-ups, which, in the movie, almost got the entire Weapon program shut down (until Stryker knifed his superior).

Also, the James Howlett AKA Logan AKA Wolverine in this story is my Logan Lite, as I affectionately call him. Logan Lite is unapologetically bisexual, more caring sometimes, though no less rough, and has three pinches more weariness and a pinch less anti-social paranoia. It's a fine line, I know, but I walk it regardless.

As for Wade, he was really tough. One may wonder why that is so when I've been reading his comics non-stop since last spring, and was aware of him prior to that, but believe me, he is one of the trickiest guys to write out there. There is an art to being such a humorous prick, and Wade Wilson has mastered the _art_ _d'idéotie_ ("art of idiocy": I used Babel Fish because I wanted to say it in French. I love French, it's so classy). I did not try to restrain Wade at all, so expect some jokes, a little awareness of the fourth wall, and such, but I got some emo-Wade in as well; I think he's got some tiny bit of soul, don't you? There's pain in him, though canon-wise he just shrugs or jokes it off. But this is a romance story, so there is a narrative and drama here, plenty of it. There is also some character study of both men, as I always like to do, and I tried to capture both as accurately as possible.

And there's SEX! SEX! SLASH YAOI SEX FETISH SPANKING GAY SEX X-MEN PORN

Hey, the spam works for Google, why not for me? Can we get a search engine crawler bot in here? Anyways, enjoy! It's not _that _crazy and stupid, I promise ;-)

* * *

– PART ONE –

**01**

**Secret Base of the Secret Military Unit: Team X**

**0000 hrs**

**Back Then (Well, kind of/sort of the Vietnam War Era)**

The operations base was massive, hollow, and empty. Even in the day, there never seemed to be more than the team, thirty or less special ops soldiers, and the man they all reported to, Major William Stryker. Yet the base was fully equipped with all the latest weapons, technology, and vehicles, and Stryker never seemed to need any kind of special clearance to use those big boy toys. It was a lot of power for the control of one man, thought James Howlett as he prowled through the cold steels hallways of the barracks. A _lot _of power.

James still had reservations about being here. There was something about Stryker that rubbed him the wrong way. But things were not working out in the vanilla military forces, not with Victor being . . . the way Victor was. And what else would they be-- _could _they be-- but soldiers? There was no other life out there for what they were. Oh, he had tried to settle now and then over the hundreds of years his life had spanned thus far, but it had never worked. There was always that point when you had to draw back, keep away, from the humans. Then there were those other points when you were pushed, stabbed, shot away from them.

James sighed heavily. He was not really sure he could think of a worse thing than the life of a mutant. Even being dead at the bottom of a six-foot hole with only worms for company sounded oddly relaxing by now. But those morbid thoughts would do him no good, not when--

He stopped short. Voices. They were far away, but his hearing was preternaturally good. They sounded angry, and familiar. One was Stryker.

_Well, let's get to know you a little better, Major, _James thought. He followed the voices through the building, until he came to the large, open cafeteria. He could see shadows moving now, back there at the makeshift bar the guys had set up between the kitchens and the ridiculously long tables of the main eating area.

Stryker was talking heatedly to one of the Team X members. James recalled the face, very young, good-looking enough to be irritating, but could not place his name. Stryker was in full uniform, but the soldier was in his off-duty sweats that they all slept in. The young man looked angry, but something about him was quieter, less combative than James thought he should be.

"Damn it, Wade!" Stryker exclaimed furiously, slamming both hands down on the steel bar counter. He leaned over it, face close to the soldier's. "The last time, you hear me? The very last time you--"

His voice dropped down to a whisper even James could not quite make out. Wade eyed him, looking sullen, and then ran a hand through his lank brown hair. He looked to be fast losing his temper.

"Well, you know what, Stryker?" he asked, mimicking the lean over the counter and closing almost all remaining space between them. "What are you going to do to stop me?"

Stryker's eyes glinted wide with anger. Wade was half-smiling. _Too cocky, _James thought.

"You come here yelling at me when I'm just out to get myself a little midnight drink, treating me like your little pawn, right?" Wade went on. "Right? Well, how do you know your dirty laundry's not _already _flying at half-mast at the White House, huh? Do you think I'm going to let you--"

Stryker was starting to say something, but Wade waved a hand impatiently.

"Ah ah ah ah ah, shh, wait, shh, just listen," he interrupted. Finally, he pounded the table. "_You _listen to _me_ now!" he shouted at the Major. "I won't let you. Not when you know that I know what I know."

"Is that so, Wade?"

"Yeah, it's so."

Stryker chuckled, shaking his head. Then, he struck Wade across the face. James frowned, opened his mouth to interrupt on instinct, and then shut it again.

"It was a nice bluff, Wade, I'll give you that," Stryker said coolly.

He went to hit him again, but Wade blocked it. Their arms were locked against one another, but Wade no longer looked as cocky as he had. In fact, he looked troubled.

"But come on," Stryker said softly. "What are _you _really going to do?"

Wade lowered his arm, to James' shock. Stryker took him by the back of the neck and slammed his head down on the counter. He held him pinned down on it, as Wade grunted in anger but did not resist. _Strange, _thought James. _He isn't the kind to not defend himself. Where's that temper? That mouth of his?_

Stryker slammed him again. James stepped into view, said, "What's going on here?"

Stryker looked surprised. Wade lifted his head what he could, and his face flushed over red. Not exactly the position a soldier wanted to be caught in by one of his peers.

"Major?" James inquired, implying with his tone that he had not recognized him already.

"James, I would have thought you were resting up before we head out," Stryker said casually. However, he released Wade, and walked around the bar counter.

Stryker came up to James, letting his lack of intimidation show. James stared at him coldly, glanced over his shoulder. Wade was rubbing his neck, swearing under his breath to himself.

"Are you going to police my bedtime, now?" James asked in his soft, gravelly voice.

Stryker lost at least some of his confidence for a moment, then quickly regained his smile. "No, of course not," he said. "I also had some business to, er, take care of."

James snorted. Behind Stryker's back, Wade was gesturing rudely at him.

"Well," Stryker said in a tone that told them there would be no further discussion, "I will see you--" He glanced back at Wade, whose arms shot behind his back. "--_both, _at 0500."

James nodded. Wade grumbled something. Stryker headed out, his shoe heels clacking along the slick floors until he was gone.

James turned his attention to Wade, and Wade turned his humiliated anger on him.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

James ignored the snap, came around the bar to the cooler behind it. "I thought I was getting a beer."

"So did I," scowled Wade. He stared at the doors on the other end of the cafeteria, after Stryker. James handed him a beer and he took it hesitantly, but did not thank the man. After a few minutes, he realized that there was no reason to be angry at the new recruit whose name he could not remember. He exhaled, jumping up to sit atop the counter beside him.

James glanced up at him. He seemed to want to talk. James didn't really like to talk, but figured he would be generous. "Charming guy, Stryker."

"He reminds me of my father."

"That a good or bad thing?"

"I killed my father."

"Oh."

James stared at the young man's face for a moment, then shook his head. "No you didn't," he said, taking a swig from his bottle of beer.

"What?" Wade looked down at him. "What?"

"I said, you didn't," James said. "I can tell."

"How can you tell?"

"Because I did."

"You killed my father?"

"_I _killed _my_ father."

"Oh." Wade contemplated this for a half-second, then remarked, "Oh boy. Two hot guys with daddy issues. Yeah. Wonder where this is going?"

Wade took a swig, James did the same. Then he frowned, asked, "Did you just call me--"

"I know things," Wade said, on a completely different track suddenly. He looked down at James gravely. "I know a lot of things. About Stryker."

James was starting to get the feeling that Wade was a few screws loose of a toaster.

"Big things, little things," Wade went on seriously. "Things that could get this whole team shut down."

"And you really want to play that game with him?"

Wade frowned. "What do you mean?"

James stood up from the counter, sick of sitting with the man's ass beside his face. "Look, you're playing a dangerous game here, kid," he said. "I don't think you really understand how dangerous it is."

"Kid? I'm not a kid." Wade jumped down from the counter. "You think I'm a kid? You're going to lecture me? How old are you?"

James patiently told him.

Wade mouthed an "oh". "But," he added, "but I'm still not . . . Look, forget freaking Stryker, all right? I can handle him. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

"Yeah." Wade nodded vigorously. "Yeah."

"Well, good for you."

Sick of him, James grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler, and headed out of the cafeteria. _Please don't follow me. Please don't--_

"I mean," Wade said as he followed him, "so I improvised a little on the last mission-- so what? With all I know about him, he should be _happy _to allow me . . . creative freedom, right?"

James groaned, shutting his eyes briefly.

"And what the hell does it matter if I cut off the hostage's arm before or after the interrogation, right?" Wade asked. "I mean, the screaming, hemorrhaging, hysteria, madness, it wears off after a few, anyway. It's not like I _killed_ him before we got answers!" He laughed. "Right?"

James gave him a wary look. _What is wrong with this guy?_

"Right?"

James stopped walking, faced the guy. The way he talked reminded James of his wild, bloodthirsty brother, Victor, but in Wade's case, he couldn't tell if he was serious or not, could help it or not, knew better or not. There was something almost childlike about him, like a rabid puppy.

"You shouldn't screw around with command, Wade," James told him. "My brother and I have been executed over fifteen times for it."

"But you're here."

James sighed. He clenched a fist, and the bone claws extended from his knuckles.

"Kewl," remarked Wade.

James gave him a look, and then in a fast motion, he sliced a cut in his wrist. He took Wade's arm in his hand before Wade could think to move, and scratched his wrist as well.

"Ow. Hey, wha--"

"Shh."

He held Wade's arm firmly in place beside his own. In moments, his own wound had healed shut. Wade kept bleeding.

"Oh," Wade said. Further realization dawned on him, and he added, "_Ohhh_. And-- ow. Hey, oww. Now I've gotta disinfect this."

James released him and kept walking. As he knew would happen, Wade came running up after him. He was rubbing the cut, licking the blood off.

"What's your name?"

Wearily, "James. Howlett."

Wade snickered. "Howlett?" He howled like a wolf. "[Howl]--llett?"

"It's better than Wade."

"I told you," Wade said, "I hated my father."

James chuckled, despite himself. Wade smiled, apparently believing he had won him over.

"And you have the claws," Wade said. "Do it again."

James frowned at him.

"Oh come again, do it again!"

Not missing a step in his stride, James extended the claws.

"So you're like a werewolf without the fur and teeth," Wade observed. He looked at James seriously. "It would be _much _cooler with the fur and teeth."

"And what do you do?" grumbled James. "Never stop talking?"

"Yeah, and--"

Wade sprang into a somersault, landing one pace ahead of James, who stopped abruptly. He whirled around behind James, and James realized that Wade had twisted his arms into a restrain. "Not bad."

He extended his claws, nicking Wade's hands and forcing him to release him. Wade grinned, back-flipping back a pace. He was enjoying this.

He reached behind his back, then his face soured. "Awww, I left my swords under the bed again," he complained. He straightened up, scratching the nape of his neck. "Next time."

"Wait a minute, swords?"

"Yuh-huh."

"You're the guy with katanas?"

"Yessir."

"Ugh."

James brushed past him, and Wade was at his heels.

"Oh, and you're beer guy!" he said joyfully. "Heeeyyy, we're roommates!"

"This isn't exactly college, kid." James glanced around the halls anxiously. "And could you not scream that out so the whole base hears how ecstatic you are about it?"

"How about that?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No. Well, sometimes, when I'm asleep," Wade said. "For a few seconds. Then I start having wet dreams about Farah Fawcett and--"

"Ohhh God," groaned James. He punched the elevator buttons violently.

"Yeah, exactly."

James gave him a look. Wade gave him a smile. The elevator doors shut on them.

"Elevators turn me on."

"Shut it."

"Do you like to go up or down?"

"Shut up."

"You look like an 'up' kind of guy. Going to the top."

"WADE!"

James turned on him, slammed him into the elevator wall. Wade did not fight. In fact, he seemed amused. His brown eyes were shining.

"Listen to me, if I had known you were going to keep yapping at me all night, I never would have said a damn word to you," James growled at him. "I'm not your buddy, your friend, or anything else to you. You're an idiot, and you probably deserved for Stryker to put you through that table."

Wade frowned. "Hey, you don't have to say _that_."

James hesitated for a minute. He looked more hurt than James would have expected. Wade heaved him off, brushed himself off.

"Fine, you're not my friend," Wade said, looking offended. "That's cool. Because I have friends."

James rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Wade . . . "

"I have lots of friends," Wade insisted. "Better friends than you."

"Wade."

"Cooler friends. Like Fantastic Four-caliber cool--"

"Wade!"

Wade looked at him expectantly. Suddenly angry, James just scowled and looked away from him. _No way am I going to apologize, _he thought. _**He **__annoys __**me**__ and then wants me to apologize?_

The elevator doors opened again, and the two stomped out. Wade strode ahead, his nose in the air, and said nothing. _At least he shut up, _James thought in amusement. He watched the man go, taking stock of him once again. He really did not know what to make of him. In all the wars he had fought, he had never met anyone quite as strange-- or as annoying.

Wade stopped outside the door to their room. The sleeping quarters section of the barracks were about half of one of the basement levels, and like everything else in the base, were ridiculously empty. The soldiers could have had a room each and still had excess space, but they were assigned two-per-quarters.

_So we don't get lonely, _James thought ironically.

"After you," Wade said snappishly.

James stopped in front of him, and they faced one another. James just gave an amused snort, and Wade seemed taken off guard. He shifted on his feet once, twice, looked every way but into the man's eyes.

_He doesn't really know what to do with himself outside of battle, _James realized. He had seen the type before, _been _the type before. After a while, you just stop interacting with people, and forget how to do it. James coped by being quiet, and obviously this kid coped by trying to be funny. He probably talked just to hear his own voice; better to hear your own voice than your own thoughts.

James had liked this type before, too. There had been times during the lonely years of fighting when he had gone this way and that. There isn't always a woman around when you need company, after all.

"After you," Wade repeated softly.

James met his eyes finally. Yes, this was the type. He was still a little uncertain, still a little lonely, from youth. He was used to being alone, but he didn't like it. He pissed everyone off to avoid getting close to anyone, before he could help himself. There was pain there, beneath the battle-lust and craziness.

The look between them was smoldering, intense. James figured he would have him if he wanted, why not? Being a mutant, he was not the kind of person that worried about the norms of society. Wade was cute, it was pretty plain that he was attracted to James, and besides, he had a nice ass.

As James had expected, however, Wade broke the look off. He exhaled, and it was a little shaky. James knew he was still scared, and smirked at the scent of fear about him.

"All right, after me," Wade said, going into the room. He ran his hands through his hair, paced for a couple of minutes. He looked like he wanted to keep talking, but for once could not think of where to start.

"These the swords?"

Wade glanced up, and freaked out. He ran over to James, snatching them away. "Ah ah ah ah! Mine! _Mine_," he said hastily. He looked at the swords as if he were a mother surveying a kidnapped child. "Do _not _handle my sword."

James snickered.

"You're immature," Wade told him. He took the blades over to his bunk and sat down on it. He unsheathed one katana, studied it with an intensity rarely seen on his face. "All I care about in the world," he said, turning it so it glinted in the dim fluorescent light. "This is my wife, my mother, my daughter, my sister, my Holy Mother Mary."

James watched him from his own bunk, several paces away. "And the other one?"

"That is my husband, my father, my son, my brother, my God."

"Pretty long names," James said dryly.

Wade shrugged, unsheathing the other. He waved them delicately in the air, going through the motions as visions of bloodshed danced in his crazy head. "Or just--" He waved one, and it whistled with a distinctive sound in the air. "--and--" He waved the other, and it chimed as well.

"Much more subtle."

Wade grinned. Then, he sheathed them both and put them on the metal nightstand beside his bunk. He kept staring at them, however, like a child wanting to have that last piece of candy before bed.

"Those two have seen me through more money than you'll ever make."

"So, you're a mercenary?"

"Yep." Wade swung his legs up onto his bed and sat cross-legged, facing James.

James crossed his arms. "So how did you get mixed up with Stryker?"

"This and that," Wade said vaguely, staring aside at nothing. "Our paths had crossed. Anyway, he hired me for this new Team X of his."

James raised an eyebrow. "And you accepted?"

Wade jangled his dog tags. "I got these," he said. "I never had these before."

"Ugh."

"I dunno, I figured it would be interesting to have government sanction for once," Wade explained. "And it has been awesome to do whatever you want with the President behind you. You wouldn't believe the skirts I've gotten under by saying I work for the President." He jangled the tags again. "And these. Like cat nip for chicks."

"It's different being a soldier," James told him. "More rules."

Wade frowned, looking sullen again.

"You can't just make it up as you go along."

"I'm doin' all right," Wade said defensively.

James decided he would let it go for now. He opened a beer and put his legs up on the bed. Maybe Wade would be quiet, for fear of being lectured again.

"And you?"

Maybe not.

"I've never been anything but a soldier," James told him. "Fought in every war this country ever faced."

"A real patriot," Wade said. "I'm Canadian, by the way."

James looked at him.

"Just saying."

"Anyway, I'm no patriot; it's a way to survive," James said. "It's easier to be surrounded by violence. Your own tendencies just blend in, get lost in the general chaos. At least, they used to."

"Yeah, jealousy is a bitch, isn't it?"

"Jealousy?"

"The other soldiers got jealous, right?" Wade guessed. "They always get jealous. Normal people just can't stand to see others that are better."

"Better?" James echoed in surprise. "We're not better."

"I'm a hell of a lot better!" Wade exclaimed. "And so are you, Claws. Don't get all modest. It's obvious. I mean, who in the world has power like we do? Who in the world can do the things we do?"

"The things we do aren't very nice."

Wade rolled his eyes. "Give me a break. We are homo superior here, okay?"

James snickered again.

"Not homo like-- I didn't mean-- Ugh!" Wade fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Seriously. We have power. That makes us better than people who do not have power. We are 10, they are 1, and 10 you following me?"

Wade sat up again. "It makes us better. Superior. And the little people get jealous of us. That's why they hate us."

"If you really need to tell yourself that, then I'm not going to stop you."

"What the hell does that mean?!" Wade shouted angrily. He climbed down from the bunk, stormed over to James'. "It's the truth! We're strong, they're weak! That makes us better! How can you deny that?"

"I do deny it!" snapped James, not fond of being yelled at by this mere child. "You ever think it just makes us _different_, Wade?"

Wade stared at him, searched his eyes.

"And that they hate us just because of that?"

"No." Wade shook his head. "No. We're better. They're jealous."

James sighed. Wade obviously could not accept the cold reality of being a freak among men, and that he was hated simply because of what he was. He was still young. Unfairness had a way of really bothering the young. James smiled a little. Hell, it had bothered the fuck out of him when he was that age, too.

"Listen to me," he said more gently. "Th--"

"Look at Stryker," Wade said, completely ignoring James. "What do you think that was about? He's trying to use his command to pull power over me, because he knows that one-on-one he could never match up to me. He hates me because he's jealous of me."

James suddenly connected the dots. "Like your father?"

Wade froze, his eyes moving to the man. "What?"

"That's why you can't accept it, isn't it?" James said knowingly. "Your father hated what you were, didn't he? Parents always hate it. So you made up this--"

"Stop it!"

"--this fantasy about him being jealous--"

"Damn it, shut up!"

"--because you didn't want to believe that he really just hated you," James finished. "That he was disappointed."

Wade glared at him. Then, he was gone. James went to react, but Wade really was superhumanly fast; in an instant, he had jumped behind him, pushed him off the bed. James hit the floor, rebounded quickly, and his claws extended. Still, Wade struck him at the base of his neck. He swore.

"You're no better than that prick Stryker," Wade said angrily. He narrowly avoided a swipe with the claw; James was faster than he expected.

"I'm nothing like Stryker, kid. I'm not trying to hurt you."

Wade struck, James blocked, they went around and then had another exchange. James was starting to worry; Wade was _fast_, and he was also quite strong. Wade twirled, and as he did, took one of his swords from its sheath.

"I love that sound," he remarked. "Your stupid claws don't make that sound."

"Whoa, whoa--"

James held his hands up, and the claws were nicked by a slash of the sword. _This is getting way too intense, _he thought wearily. _I shouldn't have provoked him, but he really needs a reality check._

The sword swished across his chest, slicing him deeply. Though James healed quickly, that did not mean he did not feel pain, and this hurt. A lot.

"Damn it, kid!" he shouted. "Wake up!"

Wade looked startled, but did not lose his resolve. He came at the man fast. Somewhere along the line, he had gotten his other sword, as well. James blocked, dodged, but he could barely defend himself and had no chance of keeping up for long.

"Wake up and be like you?" Wade asked. "Think of myself as some kind of inferior species?"

"I didn't say that."

Wade slashed, missed, and Logan slashed his claws across his arm. Wade didn't even seem to feel it, as focused as he was on the fight. He had that look in his eyes again that reminded James so much of Victor. It was infuriating to see another person losing himself to the madness of the battlefield, especially one this young.

"We're not worse or better. We're different."

"No!"

"Just different, Wade."

James managed to get behind him, and kicked him down to his knees. Wade turned around, slashing both swords, but it left him too open. James swung around him, sliced both hands hard enough to make him drop the blades, and then pounced atop him. Wade struggled, but James brought him to his feet, slammed him against the wall.

"Calm down. Hey!" James held the claws of one hand next to the man's face. "Calm down."

Wade calmed.

"Now listen," growled James. "I'm not an enemy, and I wasn't insulting you. Don't you _ever _attack me over a civilized conversation again, is that clear?"

Wade made a cynical sound.

"_Is it _clear?" James slammed him against the wall, pressed the claws closer to his face. "You're not a mercenary anymore, soldier. We're a special team and we have special privileges, but if Stryker was right about anything, it was that you _cannot _do whatever you want. Not if you want to survive."

"Oh, so you are lecturing me."

"Yes, I am," James said slowly. "Because you're not a bad guy, you're just a damn fool, and I don't want you to get your dumb ass killed."

Wade's eyes widened a little.

"All right?"

"Ye-- No!" Wade said hotly. "No, you can't just--"

"Say 'yes'," James urged him, "before I cut those pretty brown eyes of yours out of their sockets, Wade."

Wade eyed the claws, barely a centimeter from his eyes, and winced. "Yes."

James released him. He exhaled, keeping an eye on Wade, and picked up the last unopened bottle of beer.

"You really think my eyes are pretty?"

Figuring he could blame it on beer and adrenaline in the morning, James turned on him. He rushed into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, hands tearing at the young man's body through his clothes. Wade was, to vastly understate it, receptive.

"I knew it would end up this way," Wade chuckled breathlessly as he was once again slammed against the wall; he was starting to think he liked being slammed against the wall. "What were the odds of you walking in on a vulnerable moment, then us being roomed together? It's fate, right? Or fan fiction."

"Wade, shut up," grumbled James, bitting into his neck. "Shut up."

"Yes sir. Or do you want me to call you 'wolf-man'?"

James grunted. He threw Wade's shirt across the room, tugged down his gray military-issue sweats.

"M-mmph. Or do you prefer daddy?"

James looked at him.

"That's pretty kinky, right?" Wade grinned devilishly. "Or do you wanna play school? Mr. Hoowwllett?"

"Heh." James turned him to face the wall, ran a hand over his backside. "Only if I can spank you."

"Ooh!" Wade squealed excitedly. He laughed, yelped, as James slapped his bottom a few times. "Ohh, I've been baaad."

"_Shhh_."

James caught him in a kiss, and it was a serious, tender kiss. Wade murmured something at first, but then he fell silent. Now that he was quiet, he could hear the sound of their heavy breathing, his heart pounding in his ears. Their bodies were hot, pressed together with slick, intimate closeness. The kiss went on, and it was unexpectedly loving. The gravity of the moment bore down on Wade, who was used to fast times with fast women and nothing more than that. He felt like he was drowning, but he wanted to drown, and the sensation frightened him.

"Should we do this?" he asked when the kiss ended. It took him a moment to focus his dazed eyes. "Because I'm not gay. I mean, I am curious. You make me--" His eyes traveled the strapping, unclothed man standing so closely behind him. "--very, very . . . curious. But I'm not, I mean, I can't promise you-- That is--"

"Shhh, be quiet." James rustled a hand through Wade's hair, gave him a shushing kiss. "Be quiet, Wade."

"This is borderline non-consensual, you know."

"Yeah--" James groped him. "--right. Feels like you're very unwilling."

"Ha-aahhh . . . That's not f-fair."

"Relax." James kissed his shoulder. "Trust me, all right, kid?"

Wade looked into his eyes.

"Trust me."

He kissed him again, smoothly, softly. Wade was silent for a couple of seconds, staring at the wall. But his thoughts got to be too much, and he started talking again. "Is this going to-- Mmm!"

James had anticipated him babbling out of nervousness. Though he felt a little sorry for him, he gagged him with his tank, tying it firmly behind his head. Wade looked horrified, protesting through it. He went to grab at it, but James took both wrists in one hand and held them behind his back.

"Trust me," he said again, smirking.

Wade frowned and grumbled something through the gag. However, he made absolutely no effort to get away. James realized then that Wade _wanted _the choice to be taken from him, so he could blame it on someone else later. Well, fine, if that was what it took.

James held him against the wall, pushed into him. Wade managed to be loud, even gagged, but it was pleasurable to hear his muffled cries. He was tight, most likely virgin to this scene, but James did not ease up; he drove into the young man hard, fast, watching him shiver under the roughness.

Wade momentarily wondered if he should have tried to be the top, but the humiliation was lost with the pleasure. Damn it, yes, pleasure. Pleasure. He enjoyed it.

Damn it.

The gag fell out, and he cried out fully. _Ohhh, I sound like a bitch, _he thought self-consciously. _I was slicing him up a little while ago, and now I'm here being-- being--_

"That all you have to say for yourself?" James teased, his low voice rumbling in Wade's ear.

Wade was trembling, panting, against the wall. James turned him around, and Wade gave him a petulant look. "I hate you."

James laughed, and then started laughing louder. It had been a long time since he had really laughed.

"Oh, yeah, now you laugh," grumbled Wade. "I'm here cracking jokes all night, but you have to dog me to think I'm--"

James kissed him, and he shut up. He felt the youth embrace him, lean into his arms, and thought, _Well, good, he's not afraid anymore. He's not trying to pull back, get away. I think I could get used to him like this._

Wade looked a little sheepish when the kiss ended. "I love you."

James raised an eyebrow. "That was a fast change of heart, kid."

Wade kind of shrugged, and then he initiated a kiss for the first time. He became aggressive, and the two moved across the room in a playful power struggle. They went by fast, the room feeling like it was spinning, a tangle of warmth and flesh.

"You ever do it with a mutant?" Wade asked breathlessly, holding James' bearded face in both hands. "Huh?"

"No, I haven't," James said, sounding like he had just thought about it. "You?"

"No." Wade reached down for James' arms. "Take your claws out."

"Kid--"

"Come on, come on."

James' let the claws graze the youth's bare flesh as he extracted him, and Wade seemed thrilled. He ran his tongue over one, as James ran the other carefully down his spine. A small, savage part of him mused at how easy it would be to slash through all that smooth skin, into that vulnerable flesh. It was power, there was no denying that . . . and sometimes, power did feel pretty superior.

James smiled a little. The moment was bittersweet. He had spent so many nights trying to keep those claws inside, restraining himself in every sense. Though Wade was still vulnerable, he was not fragile, and he was not scared of what James was. It was a relief to be with someone like that.

Wade sensed the man's thoughts, and gave him a cute smile. For once, he let his eyes speak for him. He then busied himself kissing the man's chest, neck, and generally enjoying James' body.

James took him by the hair when he was getting a little too low, and kissed him. He took charge of the dance now, maneuvering Wade onto the bed and climbing over him. He held Wade's arms restrained over his head, leaned down to kiss him.

_He likes it rough, eh? Well, kid, then let's play._

**02**

Much later . . .

James was sitting up with his back against the steel bars of the headboard, smoking a cigar. The smoke wafted through the air, hung in a blue cloud above them. A thin military-issue gray blanket lay over him, and partly covered the figure next to him.

"Um, hey."

James smiled a little, but did not reply or even look beside him.

Wade lifted his head, his hair askew. "Hey. Untie me."

James took another drag on the cigar, exhaled smoke.

Wade pretended to cough. "You're going to give me cancer here. Come on."

James slapped his free hand down on Wade's bottom, left it there, caressing him distractedly.

"Ooph, yeah, that's nice, but--" Wade tugged on the belt that bound his wrists to one of the steel bars. "My arms are sore."

"That's not all, I'll bet."

Wade blushed. "No, but at least my ass isn't tied to the bed."

James chuckled and leaned over to untie him. "You could have slipped that," he said knowingly. "You're kind of too into the roleplay, you know that?"

Wade rolled onto his back, rubbing his wrists. "Next time, we'll play doctor. I have this nurse costume that--"

James pulled him onto his chest, held him close. Wade writhed briefly, but settled against him soon. James surveyed him for a minute, taking in the cuts on his hands from their fight, the various nicks and scratches, the fading redness on his butt from the occasional spanks, the bruises on his wrists from being bound, the numerous bite marks.

"You up for a next time?"

"Are you kidding me?" Wade asked. "Yeah! I could go again right--" He failed to stifle a yawn. "--now."

"You probably could, too," James chuckled. He stretched his arms, then put out the cigar on the steel nightstand table. He settled down against the crappy pillow, took Wade by the shoulders to look at him. "What I meant was, didn't you say you weren't gay?"

"I said I was curious," Wade told him. "And I'm still curious."

"Really."

"Yeah." Wade yawned again, and lay down on James' chest. "I mean, there are things we haven't done yet, unbelievably, and places we haven't done it in, and--"

"Go to sleep, Wade."

"And I like your claws," Wade went on. "Your claws are sexy."

"My claws are sexy?"

"Yeah, totally sexy," Wade affirmed. "You're not bad, either."

"Thank you."

"And of course I'm irresistible." Wade glanced up at him. "Right?"

James sighed.

"And I have pretty eyes."

"When did this become about you?"

"Is it always kinky with you? It is, right?" Wade grinned. "That's great. I love it rough. Strip me and spank me and-- Mmph."

"Go to sleep," James demanded, pressing a hand over the man's mouth. "_Go _to sleep, Wade."

"Mm hm."

James tentatively released him. Wade looked like he was dying to say something, but he refrained. He shut his eyes, an arm thrown across James' chest.

"Right, sleep," he murmured. "Whatever you say, daddy."

James gave him a warning look. Wade kissed him pressingly, and then went to sleep. He was actually exhausted, and was unconscious within five minutes. James smiled grimly. _Finally, he shuts up._

James stayed up for a while, going back to his cigar. He watched the youth doze, pondering him. At the moment, he looked peaceful, and very young. James traced his face with a finger, watched him shift in his sleep, throw his arm further across James' chest.

_He is a cute little fucker, _James thought. _And I don't have to worry about this one, don't have to walk on eggshells thinking I'm going to hurt him. Been with guys before, but never a mutant. It's easier, being with one of your own. Guess it was worth suffering his endless babble, after all._

_Yeah, I like this one. I like him a lot. Should worry about that . . . but somehow, I can't bring myself to._

**03**

James had to drag Wade out of bed before 0500 hrs. It was a mad rush to get in uniform and join the others at the hangars, but they made it in time. Wade was drowsy, almost asleep on his feet. The rest of the team didn't seem much better off, though James doubted they'd expended as much energy as he and Wade had. They were briefed, and were soon sitting in a military plane, flying out to another country.

James was quiet, trying not to show his sleepiness like Wade was. Between that and the anxiety flying always gave him, he ended up being downright grumpy.

"Man, I told him," complained the team's teleporter, John Wraith. He yawned. "We need some coffee back here."

"Blood," said the nodding-off Wade.

They all looked at him.

"Smell of blood always wakes me up," Wade explained. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Hey, North."

The resident marksman, David North, who was checking his ammo supply and loading his guns, glanced up. He looked disinterested.

"I'll match you," Wade told him. "Body for body."

"Kind of lazy of you, Wade," North said. "You usually offer to out-kill me."

Wade grinned. "I'm in a generous mood."

James exhaled softly, hoping he would not make too many hints. He had noticed that his brother, Victor, was unusually quiet, and glancing between him and Wade.

_He can probably smell him on me, _thought James. He did not worry, though, since his brother usually kept out of his love life, and vice versa.

"So what about you?"

James shut his eyes as Wade addressed Victor. _Oh no._

Victor turned his eyes to Wade coldly. Wade just looked at him placidly.

"Do you keep score, or are you like James?"

Victor glanced at his brother. "What do you mean, 'like James'?"

"Well, he doesn't really enjoy this." Wade yawned, stretched his arms. "Do you, James?"

Victor leaned forward, towards Wade. "And what the hell do you know about my brother?"

"I'm his room mate and-- Brother?" Wade looked between them. "Wait, what, did you say brother?" He shot James an accusatory look. "When did this happen?"

"Some hundred years ago," muttered James.

"You're brothers?"

"Yeah, Wade."

Victor continued to glare at Wade.

"Don't you pay attention to anything?" John asked Wade. "Damn."

"Oh, I'm-- blah." Wade yawned widely. "No, I don't, I admit it. Wake me when we get there."

He brushed North's gun cases to the floor and lay down along the length of a couple of seats. North gave him a furious look, punched his shoulder, and knelt down to retrieve his gear. Victor crossed his arms, continuing his moody vigilance of Wade. James sighed, turned to John Wraith, who sat beside him,

"So, how did you end up in this asylum?"

"Kinda just washed up on this shore, you know what I mean?" John replied.

"Not much choice for us."

They glanced across the tiny walk space between the two sides of seating. The quietest one, save for Fred Dukes who was in a deeper sleep than Wade, gave the two a tentative smile. There was something very sad about Chris Bradley, their telepath, almost broken.

"It was either this or the circus for me," he added.

"Kind of feel like this _is _the circus," James said.

The two chuckled.

"Nah, it's just Wade disrupting the cool mercenary vibe," John said. "He's always like that."

"I tried going into his mind once," Chris added. "Barely got out with my sanity."

"I heard that!" Wade called.

They all glanced at him, James' eyes lingering longer than the other two's. He stared at his young, new lover, wishing, even in his tiredness, that it was just them in the room. Instinct turned his gaze to the left, and he saw that Victor had been staring at him, had caught the look. He seemed angry, though James couldn't imagine why.

Shaking off the mental chill, James turned back to John and Chris to discuss more normal subjects-- such as their mutant powers and the general grimness of war.

**04**

The first time James saw Wade Wilson in real combat, even he could not help being impressed. The kid was amazing, and if James did not have specialized senses, he would not have even been able to see the lightning-fast action. James nodded to himself once as he watched the guy slice through bullets and deflect the rest; he could respect him as a fighter, easily.

Wade, meanwhile, was thinking the same about James. He was kind of slow, compared to Wade or Victor, but his strikes were always precise, deep, deadly. Kind of like he made love.

The mission took them into a small third-world village. The trail they left was bloody, and James' good mood faded as he realized the trail had not yet ended. They were outside the military base now, not dealing with mercenaries or the drug traffickers they had been taking down; they were amidst downtrodden, innocent people, _normal _people. Yet the team carried on as Stryker asked his questions, held hostages, ordered murder.

He said the entire village was mostly made up of the lower-tiers of drug traffickers, but James still had reservations. He had not left the normal ranks just to have Victor get free reign to be as bloodthirsty as before.

And Wade . . .

Wade noticed James frowning at him, and he frowned back. _What's the problem?_ he wondered. _Am I not being cool enough? I know I'm being cool enough. So what's that look?_

"Wade, stop."

At one point, James actually came beside him in the fighting, and put a hand over Wade's arm. Their eyes met over one of the guys Wade had kicked around. Wade was horrified to see the stern disapproval in James' eyes, bordering on disgust.

"Stop," James repeated more quietly.

Wade drew back, swinging the sword and sheathing it. He looked away from his victim angrily. James nodded, went on his way. After a moment, Wade withdrew the sword again, swung around and cut the guy's head off. He saw James' shoulders tense, knew he had heard it, but ignored it. Hell, he wasn't about to change his ways for the man, no matter how incredibly sexy he looked sweaty and bloodstained from the fighting.

"That's twenty-two for me!" Wade called across the embattled streets to Agent Zero.

David North spun his guns on his fingers. "Twenty-five over here, Wade." He shot off some bullets. "Twenty-six, seven, eight, nine-- Thirty."

Wade rolled his eyes. "You're a dick."

"Twenty-nine," Victor corrected North, pointing to the claw marks a bullet-riddled body. "That one was already mine."

"What's your count?" Wade asked him. "Twenty and some kitty litter?"

Victor looked at him coldly. "Thirty-five."

"Now that's just a lie," Wade complained. "He's exaggerating. Hey, Bradley, can't you, like, get into our heads and keep a real count?"

At the other side of the battlefield, Bradley shook his head, looking annoyed.

James retreated back from the front lines, to where Bradley was mentally in communication with the base, and John Wraith was taking a break. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed. "You guys getting all this?"

John shook his head, saying nothing.

"It's always like this, isn't it?"

"That it is, my friend," Chris replied.

James exhaled. In truth, he knew he should just ignore it. Maybe this really was the life mutants had to lead. Still, something bothered him, deeply bothered him.

And it was disturbing to see that it was not bothering Major Stryker one single bit.

**05**

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

"The matter with me? Hell is the matter with _you_! Making those disapproving faces at me, ruining my high!" Wade threw his gear aside angrily, the machine gun firing off some bullets into the back wall of the little building they were quartered in for the night. "You've spent the last X amount of years fighting in every war this country has ever faced, and now you're getting judgmental on me? _You're _going to lecture _me _on violence?"

James put the safety on Wade's guns for him, and stacked their gear up against the back wall. "Yeah, I am, exactly _because _I've seen those wars!" he argued back, standing up again and turning to face Wade. "I've seen guys like you, Wade, and they always, **always **crash and burn."

"Bet they weren't mutants."

"They weren't, but _I _am!" James said fiercely. "How long do you really think Victor and I would have lasted? How long will we even last now, here on Team X, this screwed up last resort? No one is indestructible, no one immortal, Wade, not mutants--" James smiled a little, reached out and touched the side of Wade's face. "--not even kids like you."

Wade hit his hand away. "I'm not saying I'm immortal, I'm just saying that I want to live my extra-cool mutant life up," he said, crossing his arms and lifting his face haughtily at James. "And _you_ are stopping me."

"You're not just a young soldier, even a young merc, living it up, Wade," James said in annoyance. "You're a butcher. All you want to do, all you do with your life, is kill people."

"I'm an American soldier and that's what we do!" Wade shouted, pointing at James.

"You said you were Canadian."

Wade jangled the dog tags. "Not at the moment."

James rolled his eyes, sinking down on the sofa. He groaned, rubbing his face. "Wade, this isn't a game!" He looked up at him. "Don't you get that?"

"Actually, James, it _is_," Wade said. He paused, grinned. "Did you _see _me out there?"

"I did."

"And? I was awesome, right?" Wade practically bounced onto the sofa next to James. "Right?"

James met his eyes, looking tired and exasperated. "You are an amazing fighter, Wade," he admitted. Then, he smiled, caressed Wade's face lovingly. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone that fast. Except Victor."

Wade chuckled stupidly. "Huhuhuh . . . Yeah, tell me how good I am."

"You are--" James kissed him passionately, as he maneuvered his arms discreetly behind his back. "--fantastic. A real--" He kissed him again. "--honest-to-God--" Again.

"Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?"

James smiled sweetly at him. "Son-of-a-bitch."

Wade blinked. " . . . But that's a good thing, right?" He realized that his hands had been tied behind his back with wire. "You mean that in a good way?"

He looked at James hopefully, looking so cute with his hair falling over his face that James almost pitied him.

Almost.

James flipped Wade over the arm of the rattan sofa, binding his ankles together. Wade was too stunned to do anything about it, which was a good thing; he would have been deadly had he expected what was coming. As it was, he merely squirmed, frowning deeply as he tried to figure it out.

"Is this roleplay?" Wade asked. "I mean, shouldn't there be a set-up? I don't even know what role I'm supposed to be playing, and--"

He looked up. James was unfastening his belt, looking down at him grimly. Wade's heart skipped a beat, and his face flushed.

"And we should decide on a safe word," he said in a rush. "You know, that's the most important-- gah!"

James yanked his head back by his brown hair. "It isn't roleplay, Wade," he said. He shrugged. "But you like unnecessary violence, right? So you should enjoy this."

Wade struggled more desperately, but James had tied knots he could _not _slip this time. James went out of view, behind him, and he felt the man unfastening his pants.

"You're not going to _really _punish me, are you?" Wade asked, his anxiety deepening into a panic. "Because that would be, you know, ridiculous!"

Wade's pants were slid down, then his underwear. It wasn't erotic. Wade frowned sulkily, feeling stupid, exposed . . . and vulnerable.

"What's so ridiculous about a little love game, Wade?" James asked, leaning his face down beside the youth's. "Didn't you say you liked it rough?"

"Ngh. You sound suspiciously like a music artist from the future," Wade muttered. He tried to break out of the wires binding his arms, but couldn't. "And this is not a game! This is domestic violence!"

James chuckled, kissing the man's cheek. "Maybe," he murmured into his ear. He stood, tousling Wade's hair. "Maybe."

Wade swallowed, sobering. "James, don't-- Don't do this, man."

"Don't tell me you're scared?"

Wade shook his head. He stared miserably at the floor, more thoughts than even was usual flooding through his mind. "James, I thought you were different."

"I am."

The belt snapped across his bottom, and Wade flinched.

"I actually give a damn about you."

He struck Wade again, and Wade felt the tears jump into his eyes. _Damn it. I can't still be this weak. I can't--_

"Well, I don't want your tough love!" he yelled at James as he felt a third stripe burned into his skin. He tried to kick, struggled violently. "I don't want you to c-- to care about what I do with my life!"

The belt crackled through the air again, and Wade cried out briefly.

"I was doing my _job_!" he shouted defensively. "I do it well! So what? Anyone else would do that same if they could!"

James said nothing, striking him once more.

"And who the hell do you think you are!" Wade screamed up at him, trying to glance over his shoulder. "You have no right to tell me what to do! I don't even know you aside from one fuck last night! What, you think you _love _me? You think you're my-my father?"

James eyed him.

"Well you're not!" Wade shouted hoarsely. "You're not! And I'm going to—going to kill you, like I should have-- should have--"

One more crack broke him down completely. He burst into sobs, bitter, angry sobs, and became incoherent. James, who was not quite as sadistic as he appeared, struck him only a few more times before stopping. He just did not have the heart for more.

The man sat down on the sofa, pulled Wade onto his lap. Wade, half-lying and half-sitting, winced, stared up at him miserably. "I hate you."

James laughed. "Again?"

"This time I really, really hate you."

James continued to laugh quietly, shaking his head.

"I mean it," Wade insisted. "F-for real. Why don't you untie me and see if I'm-- Mmm."

James kissed him. Wade tried to mumble a protest, but ended up babbling _into _the kiss, rather than away from it. James embraced him, his roughened hands soothing away the hot tears, cooling his stinging skin.

"You are hardcore sick," Wade grumbled. "This is BDSM on steroids."

"Oh, shut up, will ya?"

James tossed him face-down across the length of the sofa, climbing over him. He ran a hand over the welts on Wade's behind, grinning. "I'm not here to teach you or change you, Wade," he lied. He removed his jacket and tank, pressed down on the youth, licking his neck. "You pissed me off," he murmured into his ear, "so I spanked you a little. Are you really going to make such a big deal out of it?"

Wade looked at him angrily. "Yeah, I am," he said. He paused, trying to decipher James' light, gleaming eyes. Then, at the risk of being laughed at, he said somberly, "My father used to beat up on me like that." He writhed against the bindings. "I don't like it."

James ran a finger over the curve of the youth's reddened behind. "You sure?"

"You're supposed to be understanding and promise never to do it again!" Wade whined, struggling again. "You're supposed to be sorry!"

"Well, I'm not." James sat up, still over the man, and looked down at him. "So, now what?"

Wade stared at him in disbelief. "Huh?"

"You seem to know the script, so you tell me," James said coolly. "You want me to untie you so you can try to kill me?" He smirked. "Or do you want me to fuck you until you can't even feel it anymore?"

Wade blushed. "W-w-well, I-I--" he stammered. _S-s-seem to have developed a speech p-p-problem, _he finished the statement mentally, scowling at himself.

James raised an eyebrow.

"This random third-world jungle is too hot to fight in anymore, anyway," Wade grumbled. "So just-just get it over with."

"My pleasure."

_I'll bet it is, _Wade thought bitterly.

In a few, it was not only James' pleasure. Wade cursed him and cursed him, mentally and out loud, but it convinced neither of them of a damn thing. James laughed at him, Wade scowled, and they both forgot about the entire thing-- for the moment.

**06**

James felt a little guilty later on, when they were lying in a mosquito-netted bed together. He had Wade on his chest, holding him there tightly with one arm. Wade was untied by now, though his wrists were bruised. He was quiet, which meant something was wrong.

"You okay, kid?"

Wade looked up at him. "Huh? Oh, yeah, of course." He laughed, though it was hollow. "I was just-- role . . . playing . . . You know, when I was 'crying'."

"No you weren't." James sat up against the headboard, looked down at Wade seriously. "You want to talk about it?"

"About my daddy issues? Nah."

James caressed his shoulder. "Sure?"

"Aren't you the compassionate one suddenly," muttered Wade. He shifted, kicked some sheets around. "That really freaking hurt, you know."

James sat Wade up by the shoulders. "I'm understanding, I promise to never do it again, I'm sorry."

Wade laughed, punched the man's broad shoulder. "I'm supposed to be the comedy relief," he said. He sniffled a little, hadn't realized he had been teary-eyed again. "Look, I'm all for kink, but I'm not the kind of person that--"

James eyed him. "That what?"

Wade sat up, stretching his arms. "Takes abuse," he said grudgingly. He straddled James, leaning his face close to the other man's. "I'm not a victim. So it makes no sense I'd just let you do that to me and, you know, go on breathing."

James did not look worried. "That so?"

"Yeah, it's so!" Wade leaned further over him. "That just doesn't happen. It's like I went to sleep Wade Wilson and woke up Rihanna."

"Who?"

"She isn't born yet. The point is--"

In a blur, Wade had one of his swords at James' neck. "--why would I _not _kill you right now?"

"Because you weren't victimized, you did enjoy it, and I have my claws out."

Wade glanced over his shoulder, saw the points of James' claws at the back of his neck. He scowled, looking cute. "That is so unfair."

James shrugged a shoulder. "So. You sure you want to do this?"

Wade hesitated, still frowning.

"Look, I was out of line, I admit it," James told him. He reached his head over the sword carefully, kissed Wade's pouting lips. "I'm . . . well . . . " The edge of the blade pressed into his neck a bit more closely than he would have expected from Wade. "All right, I'm sorry."

James sat up a little more, careful of the sword, and stroked Wade's shoulder gently. His eyes softened, and he said, more sincerely, "I didn't want to hurt you. You just worry me, that's all. I know I shouldn't give a damn, but--"

"No." Wade removed the sword from his neck, and finally put it down. "Look, I . . . I don't mind you caring," he admitted. "No one's ever really cared about me before."

James brought him down into his arms, kissed him. _This is getting too intense, _he thought worriedly. _Why do I like this kid so much? He gets under my skin, makes me furious, worried, depressed . . . and needed. He needs me. And I want to be there for him. But . . . what if I can't? I'm here, and everything I say and do promises things I'm not sure I can give. _

"It just takes some getting used to, I guess," Wade said quietly, running his fingers over the man's strapping chest. "I've always been alone, doing whatever the hell I want, not being told anything about it. I'm a mutant. What normal person challenges a mutant, right?"

"Well, Team X is all mutants," James pointed out. He had lit a cigar by now, after almost getting his head cut off, and took a drag on it, exhaling smoke. "No more lording over the masses for you."

"Should have stayed a hired gun," Wade grumbled.

James tipped his face towards his own by the chin. "But then, you wouldn't have met me." He jangled the dog tags around Wade's neck. "Or have gotten these, right?"

"Wouldn't be beaten up, either."

"Do you ever stop sulking?" groaned James. "I didn't beat you up, anyway. What's it going to take, eh?" He lay Wade down, climbed over him. "Forgive me, kid, will ya?"

"Well . . . maybe--" Wade grinned, running his fingers through James' black hair. "Maybe if you kiss it and make it better?"

James laughed. "Oh really?"

Wade was turned over, and despite James' apologies, he gave him a light slap on the behind.

"Ow, hey-- that-- Ouch! And that was a _bite_, not a kiss! You-- m-mmm!"

James gagged him with his rolled-up tank, again.

Wade removed it long enough to say, "Thought you were over the whole BDSM thing."

James gave him a look, and Wade put it back.

"Listening to you while making love would be more sadistic than anything I'm capable of, kid, believe me," James said, taking one last drag on the cigar before putting it out on the simple wood bedside table. "I could go crazy or something. Safety first, right?"

"Mmo dhib ith lik a codom?"

James discerned the meaning of the man's muffled words, but ignored them. He leaned over him, kissing his shoulder, going down his spine. Wade shuddered, mumbled some more things, and finally sighed and fell silent.

He never quite said the words, but he knew by now that he would forgive James almost anything. _Not a good position to be in, and I don't mean this doggy style one, _Wade thought worriedly. _This is insane. I'm not the kind of guy that falls for people. I'm not the kind of guy that falls for guys. Maybe if it was an androgynous-faced, beautiful anime guy with flowing hair and rippling, hairless chest muscles--_

_No. Not even then._

_So what is it with this guy? Why am I doing the soap opera interior monologue thing? Why am I almost opening up to him every second, and being all vulnerable? Like a chick. No, like someone in l-- L-- I can't even think it._

_That's it. I'm not thinking._

And Wade thought no more for the rest of the night.

**07**

The next morning, James wandered out of the little shack where he was staying with Wade. He zipped up his low-hanging pants, stretched his arms, and lit a cigar. The sun was just starting to show above the jungle canopy-graced horizon, and it was already sweltering. You would think it would drive people away from the warmth of being close, but all it did was make you want to press closer, be warmer. There were a couple hours left until they took off. Maybe he could get back in bed with Wade, who was still snoring peacefully inside.

"Hey. Jimmy."

James turned in surprise. "Victor?"

Victor came around the front of the house, looking like he had some unpleasant things on his mind. "Haven't seen much of you since we started this gig," he remarked, his smile failing to mask his displeasure. "Seems you've adopted another brother to take my place."

_Not exactly, _James thought. To Victor, he said casually, "No one could ever take your place, Victor. You know that."

Victor half-nodded, though he did not look convinced.

"Besides, he isn't a brother to me." James laughed shortly. "No kind of family, this one."

"I can tell," Victor said, unable to stop the sneer from entering his voice or showing on his face. "I smell him on you, again."

James eyed his brother. "You sound like you have a problem with it."

"I do have a problem with it," growled Victor. "Why a man-- Why _this _man, Jimmy?"

James shrugged his shoulders. "Because I like him. Why not? It's not like we exactly live restrained lives."

"Really? Because you don't seem to be cutting very loose lately."

James stared at him, feeling a chill go through him. Now he saw the problem with Victor; he was hurt and angry, jealous of another having James' full attention . . . James' love. _I never could hide anything from him, _James thought in annoyance.

"So you'll save this one, because you can't save me?"

"Victor, it isn't--"

"It's exactly like that!" Victor yelled at him. "You haven't even spoken one word to me since we joined Team X, not really." He pushed over to James, got in his face, staring down his brother's glare. "You're looking for someone else to love, and you think you've found him."

James tried to turn his face, but Victor shook him in place by the shoulder.

"Why, Jimmy?" Victor hissed. "Because he's young and soft, and you think he'll let you tame him? Ha! That little viper will eat you up and spit you out without a second thought in his stupid, empty head."

"Now wait a minute, Victor--"

"He doesn't care about you, Jimmy!" Victor gave him a shove. "No one does! Except me-- _**me**_, Jimmy, _I _care about you. And that's why I'm telling you--"

"Oh, you're telling me what to do now?"

"Yes, I am," Victor affirmed guiltlessly. "I'm telling you to leave him alone. Don't waste yourself with delusions about people, just to escape from the reality of what I-- what _we_-- are."

James rubbed his temple, feeling, more than anything, tired. The heat of the morning was bearing down on him with the stench of blood and death, sickening the longtime soldier. He wanted away, away from it all . . . even if it meant giving up Wade.

Was Victor right, anyway? About Wade? Would he never really change?

The last thing James wanted was to lose another battle, watch another loved one lost to him forever, like Victor.

James met his brother's eyes, and understanding passed between them. Yes, Victor was lost to him . . .

Victor's brow furrowed in hurt confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but a third voice joined them then.

"Hey there, Sally Hansen," Wade greeted Victor cynically, "what's up?"

Victor's eyes fell on him with a deadly gaze, and Wade just stared back, looking eager. The desire to fight was clear in him, and James scowled. _Why, Wade? Why do you have to be like that, too?_

Victor turned back to James, and his face said it all. Without another word, he turned and tromped through the jungle back to the little, destroyed town where the rest of Team X was camped. James watched him go, and felt only relief.

"I missed something, didn't I?" Wade said, uncaring, as he came down the steps of the flimsy structure, fastening his low-hanging black pants. When he received no acknowledgement, he looked up at James, pressed, "_Right_?"

James' eyes were cold when he looked back at Wade, and Wade flinched inwardly. He said nothing, heading into the building again. Wade stayed staring blankly for a moment, shocked.

When he burst into the shack, he was angry. "What the hell is your problem!"

"Wade, just-- just stop." James waved a hand warningly at him, a fresh cigar lit in his mouth. He was bent over the supplies, packing up. He met Wade's eyes, added softly, "Please."

Wade leaned over him, wrapping his arms around the man's waist. "Don't you know I never stop?" he grinned, biting the man's ear. "Mmm hm hm."

James smiled, but it was a pained smile. "Kid . . . "

Wade sobered, came around James to face him. "I heard you talking, you know," he said. "I think I get what's going on, but-- but you know, Cat-Claws is right."

James stared at him, expression indiscernible.

"This is what people like us do," Wade said. He smiled. "And why shouldn't we enjoy it? Right?"

He took James' face in both hands and kissed him with all the passion and abandon of youth. James felt old for meeting the sensation with only bitterness.

"Don't worry," Wade said. "I'll take care of you."

James shut his eyes over a pang of deep, dark stab of pain. _Victor's words. God, he . . . is just like him. Why? Why do I have to go through this again?_

_No. It isn't too late. I can still . .. pull back, save some piece of myself from being crushed and decimated like every other part of my soul._

Wade's serious moment had passed, and he now asked, "Do we have enough time left here to fuck?"

James looked at him. He wanted to slap him, shake him, turn him over and beat him again. But what good would that do? Wade was young, but he was a man, and a man of his own making. There was no undoing whatever the hell life had already done to him.

So, James turned him to the wall, slammed him against it. His hands tore down the pants, lifted off his shirt, and he grasped at the kid desperately, wanting only to have one last taste of that reckless, wild sense of youth he had.

"You're an idiot."

Wade just laughed, completely oblivious to James' despair. He felt some of the sorrow and need in his touch, and there was a roughness that went even beyond their usual, but he merely figured that James had given up the delusions Victor had mentioned.

_Now, isn't that better? _Wade thought in satisfaction. _Don't worry, nigh-immortal soldier, you'll get used to it. There's always a point where you learn to stop spitting out the blood that splashes in your mouth, and then, well, you swallow._

_Okay, my mind is not exactly on philosophy at the moment._

– PART TWO –

**08**

James had given up on Team X inside, but he stayed. Partly, he stayed for Wade, and partly for Victor, but he knew that none of it was for himself. He was hollow, though he tried to live with the emptiness. Wade was a welcome distraction, even if he was a little jerk, and provided the only moments where James thought perhaps he could live with himself, after all.

Then came Nigeria.

When James turned his back on the team and left, Wade was confused. Though he saw acceptance on Victor's face, dark and brooding, he himself could not believe it. Victor had turned to him, taken him by the shirt, spat in his face that it was his fault. Wade had not even wanted to fight him anymore, and had just pushed him off and ran.

He ran through the cool, dry night, after James. He found the off-road vehicle the man had taken, and stole one of his own. With his thoughts racing faster than even was his usual, Wade drove off after the tracks. As the wind whipping around his lithe body blew away the shock, Wade felt anger overcome him, and determination. He didn't even care why he was so attached by now, he just knew one thing, and that was that there was no way he was going to lose James.

Wade found James finally, at the airport. He was about to hop the earliest flight available. Wade pushed and shoved his way through the crowds and past security, to confront him in front of the plane's steps.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Nowhere, anywhere," James replied, motioning to security that it was all right. He moved out of the line. "I'm just gone, kid. I'm gone."

"Without me?"

"You know your place," James said sternly, his tone cutting the youth to the core. "Like Victor, you've known it long before I ever did, right?"

"That isn't fair," Wade said, his voice quavering. He pressed his lips into a line, looked away for a moment. The bustling exotic crowds, the lights of the airstrips and the airport, it all seemed surreal at that moment. How had life turned into some romantic drama? His simple, uncomplicated, fun, easy life . . .

His empty life . . .

He hit James' shoulders. "You aren't being fair!" he shouted furiously. "You knew what I was! You're a fucking soldier of a hundred or more years! And a mutant!" He grabbed James' arm, shook it. "Show them! Why don't you? Show them all what the fuck you are!"

"Stop it, Wade," James said wearily, pulling his arm away. "You're being childish."

"Yeah, I am!"

"Yeah."

"Yeah!" Wade swiped a fist across his nose, his eyes watery. "Because I want something, like a child wants things-- selfishly, carelessly, passionately. Because I want you, like I've never wanted anything." He pounded a fist on James' chest. "I want . . . you."

James felt his heart wrenching, but he knew how things would end up, how they _always_ ended up. It was early enough that the pain would be difficult, but would not kill him. He could not let Wade kill another part of himself, the way Victor had. It was cruel, but he had to survive.

_Like an animal, _James thought bitterly. _Maybe I am no better after all . . . _

"You knew what I was when we got together," Wade said. "And don't say it was just sex!"

"It _was _just sex, Wade."

"But it was great sex, it was-- it was-- spectacular sex," Wade said, and he looked close to losing it completely (mentally and emotionally). "And then you, you said you cared. You did say that! You told me you cared about me. I let you live because of that, remember? I let you do things to me that no one else would ever get away with. I let you . . . let you have me, all of me, you get it? And you're just going to go? Just like that?"

James swallowed.

"You're just going to leave me?"

"I have to get out, Wade," James said, holding him by the shoulders. "Look at me. You see it, don't you? You see what will happen to me if I don't?"

"I don't care what happens to you!" Wade scowled. "So, stay, stay and, what? Die? You've lived long enough. But I--"

James frowned.

"I've never had what you've given me," Wade said softly, grudgingly. "You can't just take it away."

"I'm not taking anything," James said, shouldering his bag. "I'm leaving you as you were when I found you, kid. Because despite all this whining and pleading, that's what you really want: to be left unchanged."

Wade wanted to protest, but couldn't. It was true.

"You want me to fit into your life," James went on, his tone becoming harsh again. "Well, I don't! And tell Victor the same. I just _don't_ anymore."

"And where the hell else will you fit?" Wade insisted. "Being what you are?"

"I don't know, maybe nowhere," James admitted, shrugging. "But it would be better than here." He drew a breath, knowing he had to hurt the man enough to get him to back down but hating himself for it. "Better than with you."

Wade looked at him, those eyes James had always loved shocked. The tears fell before the youth could stop them, and he started to cry in earnest.

"You're lying," he insisted. "You're--"

He gripped James' shirt in both hands, cried into his chest. James inhaled tightly, eyes looking around at all the stares they were getting. He lifted his gaze to the star-strewn skies of Africa, majestic and older than even he was. He focused anywhere, anywhere but on his young lover's pain.

"Don't leave me," sobbed Wade. "James."

James embraced him tightly, one last time. "Say it."

Wade shook his head, crying loudly.

"Say it, and say you'll come with me," James offered. "Say we can fit together. Say you'll change. Say you love me."

"I can't," Wade said, drawing a shuddery breath. He rubbed at his eyes with a fist. "I can't."

"There's a price to be paid for freedom, Wade," James said, holding him at arms' length. "This is the price, kid. This is the price."

The final call for boarding came from somewhere nearby, in the native tongue of the land. Wade glanced all around, looking troubled and a bit dazed. He clung to James' arm suddenly. "No," he said. "James, don't say that."

"This is it."

"Don't say that!"

But James had torn away, and was gone. Wade looked around in confusion, realized that the man had ran up the plane steps. He looked up at him, their eyes met once, and then James got on the plane. The steps were being taken, the doors closed.

Wade was ushered away, and he shoved away from the security, swearing at them in the native tongue. Alone, he found a quiet side of a building, out of the glare of artificial light, away from the sight of the crowds, and sat down.

Hugging his knees, the man cried, cried and hated. He felt like that teenager again, the one who was afraid to go inside his house, the one who just wanted to stay out in the darkness forever crying, the one who knew what awaited him was his own damn fault. He hated James for making him feel that way again. He hated him . . . because he loved him.

_The last time, _Wade thought bitterly. _The last fucking time._

_I'm never doing this again._

**09**

A year passed. It was a bloody year for Wade, who was as ruthless and bloodthirsty as ever. It was a peaceful year for James, who found a simple life in the mountains of Canada. Victor and Stryker spent the year plotting, biding their time, planning the fates of those who were still attached to them, like Wade, and the one who thought he had left it all behind.

One night, James came home to the isolated cabin he had bought himself. At this point, he was seeing a woman, but he was taking life slowly, and still lived alone. The man slung his jacket over the sofa, unbuttoned a few buttons on his red plaid shirt and rolled his sleeves up. He went into the refrigerator for his usual beer--

--and found a mess of shattered bottles and spilled beer on the kitchen floor.

James withdrew his claws, smelling the air. He expected Victor's scent, but got quite another: this one was masculine as well, but younger, fresher, and very slightly sweet.

"That's the least of what you deserve."

James did not withdraw the claws, though he turned slowly, without fear or alarm. Wade Wilson was crouched atop the kitchen counter, drinking from a bottle that had survived his message. He grinned impishly, took a swig.

"Deserve? That is cruel and unusual, Wilson."

"And what you did to me wasn't?" Wade jumped down and ran a hand over the claws, pressing his body close for just a second to James' side. "Put the claws away, James. I'm not here to fight, believe it or not."

James brought the bone blades back into his arms, though he kept his gaze fixed on Wade. The young man strode around him, into the main room of the cabin, looking around.

"I thought about killing you for about six months, even planned it out in detail," he said. "But killing for love is so tweenager, isn't it? I mean, it just isn't worth it." He stopped walking, made a face. "Though it would have saved you from this shit hole, wouldn't it? Probably would have been a mercy."

"Killing for love?" James crossed his arms. "You saying you love me?"

Wade's face colored, and he bowed his head, lank hair falling over his forehead. "Saying I did love you--" He gave James a look that betrayed all the turmoil he had so far been hiding behind a cool exterior. "--before you tore my heart out, chewed on it, spat it out, stomped on it, and then ran it over with a monster truck."

"Oh come on, isn't that a little--"

"No."

"--bit of a exagger--"

"No."

James drew a breath. "Kid, I don't know what to say to you," he said. He frowned uncertainly, cautiously approaching Wade. "I don't even know what you want me to say to you."

"I'm the one who's here to talk," Wade said. He handed the half-empty beer bottle to James. "I'm here to say that I forgive you."

_How gracious, _James thought, a little grated by the magnanimous tone. He took the beer, though, and downed most of it in one go.

"I forgive you for being such a dick," Wade went on, "and doing all the aforementioned things to my heart."

James eyed him warily. All the old feelings began to bubble back to the surface, and their brief past flashed before his eyes like a movie montage. _Careful, _he cautioned himself. _You have everything you ever wanted here, in this new life-- It would be a disaster to get pulled back into that place._

Wade stretched lazily, and James suddenly got the feeling that he had been holed up in the place all day, waiting for him. His eyes traced the sinewy lines of the youth's body, still as strong and lean as he remembered. When he turned around and bent over the back of the sofa to retrieve something, James had to take a long drink from the beer.

"And to give you these."

Wade tossed something at James, and he caught it. He raised an eyebrow, reading his name on the dog tags, and looked at Wade. "You took them?"

"I stole them, from your brother," Wade informed him. He caught them as they were tossed back.

"Keep them," James told him.

"James--"

"It isn't James anymore," the man said. "It's Logan."

"Lame life, cooler name? Like that makes sense," Wade grumbled. "Logan, then, look, I'm not offering you Team X back. I'm having problems with them, too. I might even quit."

"Ah, now I get it," Logan said, setting down the empty beer bottle on the coffee table to join its several, scattered predecessors. "You figure no Team X, no problem. You want to get back together."

Wade sucked in a breath, his heart speeding. _I feel like the ugly girl on prom night, _he thought. _If he turns me down, maybe I can go all 'Carrie' on him. _

_Now I've got "Dancing Queen" stuck in my head. Great. Last time, it went for a month straight._

"Only professionally," Wade said lightly. "I was thinking we could get a couple of side characters and be a mercenary team. Like the Suicide Squad, only better."

_He still thinks it's all a game, _Logan thought, suppressing the urge to sigh. _Still the same rabid puppy as before. This time, he even followed me home._

"Cause you can't be happy living like this," Wade said distastefully.

"Only, I _am_ happy living like this," James said impatiently. "But you don't care about my life. You never did. So why don't you just admit what this is really about, instead of standing there with your hands in your pockets, pretending to not give a shit."

Wade flushed, smiled sheepishly. "You didn't think that was cool? I thought I was being cool."

"You're not cool. You're obvious."

"Oh well."

Wade threw his arms around Logan's neck, pulled him into a deep, frenzied kiss.

"Mmmmmpphhhlooooveeemeeee."

Logan pulled out breathless, couldn't help but give the guy a grin. It felt good to hold him again, to see that need and desire in those eyes. He ran a hand through Wade's hair, studied his face. He hadn't changed one bit in the last year, still so young and cute as hell.

But--

"I can't be with you, Wade," Logan said. "I have a life here, my **own **life. I'm not going to just go and wreck it. Not this time."

"There's nothing here!" Wade argued. "This isn't anything, and you know it. This is just you hiding from reality, running away from what you are."

Logan pushed the man away. "Wade, I'm not doing this with you."

"You don't have to be like Victor!" Wade yelled at him. "And you don't have to be like me. Just . . . don't close yourself off, right? Don't deny how good you are at doing what you do."

"How _good_ I am?" Logan echoed. "I'm the _best _at what I do--"

Wade grinned, finishing the lie, "--and what you do isn't very nice."

Logan laughed, despite himself, shaking his head. "Ohh, kid," he groaned, rubbing his face. "What am I going to do with you this time?"

"Join me," Wade said. "We'll kick ass and take names together. Just paid hits, no innocents, if you don't want to. But we'll be what we were meant to be."

"Killers?"

"I prefer the term 'life reassessment agents'," Wade said. "It's more PC."

They were close again, and Logan gave him a look. "You're an idiot," he murmured at the youth, feeling the warmth of his body on his own skin. "I'm almost tempted to say 'yes', just to get my hands on you again. You know how much I wanna throw you down and spank the hell out of you right now?"

Wade smirked, eyes shining. "Then why don't you?"

"Cause if I get my hands on that nice, firm ass of yours, I might never get away from you again."

"Hands on-- Like this?"

Logan realized the youth had manipulated his hands into resting on his backside, and he felt his blood pounding through his veins, hot and loud. _I'd forgotten how fast he is, _he thought. _Stupid. Careless. Or did I want him to do something like that? Do I __**want **__to have an excuse to go back to him?_

Wade brought his face dangerously close to Logan's. "You sure you want to get away from me again?"

Logan edged on the boundaries of a kiss, his rough lips grazing Wade's, and then turned his face. "No." He licked his dry lips, swallowed, and forced himself to release the young man. "No, Wade. I'm not doing this. Not again. Not with you."

Logan moved away, and Wade felt cold without his presence. It took him a moment to compose himself, get his mind to work as his body burned with physical desire. His mind worked questionably as it was, without the added pressures of lust.

"I-- Wha--- Wha—at do you mean? Not with me?" Wade asked, turning to Logan. "All you want is me! That much is _largely_ obvious."

James followed his gaze, face reddening. He went into the kitchen, getting water of all things. He glared at the glass, and at the smashed beers, with hatred. But that was what Wade wanted, wasn't it? He _wanted _Logan to be furious with him, to punish him.

Why? Logan wondered briefly. Why go about the seduction that way? Was he just a kinky guy, or was it something else?

"Is it because you think that chick is going to be enough for you?"

Logan felt his blood chill. He turned his light, glinting eyes to Wade.

"Ha! That woman-- You never wondered about her?" Wade asked, approaching him. "How you just happened to bump into her that night at the bar when her car just happened to be broken down? How she just happens to be open-minded about your mutation? How a _teacher _can be that incredibly gorgeous and hot?"

"Wade, I'm warning you."

"So it's just Happily Ever After in the Rockies? Is that it?" Wade leaned over the counter to glare at Logan. "You think life works like that?"

Logan met his eyes evenly, a quiet storm raging in his own.

"And you call me the kid?" Wade went on. "I've _seen _life! And death. I know what they are. You're the naïve one here, not me, not Victor, you! And it's gonna be your ass that life kicks, when you least expect it. You and your coincidentally perfect whore, Kayla."

Logan reached over the counter and pulled Wade over it. He slammed him over it, pressed an arm crushingly over his throat, and let the claws slide within an inch of the youth's face.

"What if I come at you like a man, eh, instead of a lover?" Logan threatened. "If I beat you down without reservation, without pity or lust or love? What then, Wade? You don't even have your precious swords."

"Didn't think I'd need them," grumbled Wade, sullen. "I thought I could trust you."

Logan sighed, unable to avoid being guilt-tripped by the remark. He withdrew the claws, sheathing them in his arms, and released Wade. Wade stood up slowly, coughing a little.

" . . . Aren't you going to spank me?"

"Get out," Logan ordered shortly.

"You're just letting me go? After I said all that stuff about--"

"Get _out_, Wade. Just leave me alone."

Wade hesitated. Logan looked deeply upset. He should call it quits. He should give the poor man a break and just leave him to whatever little crumbs of happiness he could find in this new life.

"You sure?" Wade kept on, advancing on Logan. "Because I've been a _really _bad boy since you've been gone." Their faces brushed, and he murmured into his ear, "Killed _lots _of people."

Logan gritted his teeth, trying to keep himself unresponsive.

"Don't you think I should be punished?"

"Life will punish you, Wade, I have nothing to do with it." Logan turned his face to Wade's, grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "I'm not your goddamn keeper, your lover, or a fucking stand-in father, okay?"

Logan released a frowning Wade, strode out of the kitchen.

"You said you cared about me."

"I do!" Logan exploded. "Don't you get it? I DO!"

"So why won't you keep me?"

"Because I care, that's why!" Logan shouted. "I could have loved you, Wade, loved you like I've never loved anyone. But you won't change. You're going to keep spiraling and spiraling until you get your dumb ass killed! And then I lose you, like I've lost every goddamn thing I've ever had!"

He threw the glass he had been holding, and it shattered around Wade. Wade watched him evenly, curiously.

"And you don't think you're going to lose all this, anyway?" Wade asked, motioning around the cabin. "How do you know you haven't already lost it? Or lost that stupid teacher chick?"

"If you had killed her, you would never have been stupid enough to come here without your swords."

Wade mouthed the words 'oh yeah', and turned his face. "Well, um, I could just take it all away tomorrow!" he threatened. "Hell, I could have done it tonight, and if not me, Victor, or Stryker. Burn this place down, get rid of the girl, tell everyone who and _what _you really are. So, you're taking a chance on all this, anyway, _Logan_. Why not take a chance on me?"

Logan gave him a look, walked past him.

"Because you don't think I'm worth it, do you?" Wade said as realization dawned on him. "Is that it?"

"No, that's not it," Logan said hastily. "It's because you _don't_ have a chance to take. You _won't_ change, you _will _end up--" He stopped himself from saying 'dead', not liking the thought. "--lost to me. There's nothing left to chance with you, Wade. It's certainty."

"What if I told you that losing this new life of yours was certain?"

"I wouldn't believe you," Logan said. "You're a liar and a manipulator, Wade. You'd stop at nothing to get what you want. I would think that was either a lie to be ignored--" He brought out his claws. "--or a threat to rid myself of."

"It wasn't a threat," scowled Wade. "It-- Never mind. What does it matter?"

He looked so thoroughly miserable that Logan wanted to kiss him, despite it all. He refrained, but only barely. Wade took the dog tags from his pocket, then put them around his own neck. He picked up a coat Logan hadn't noticed, swung it on, and headed for the door.

"Just don't say I never tried to warn you."

Logan's arm barred his way suddenly. "I'm not so sure I should let you leave," he said worriedly. "Those cryptic remarks sound pretty close to threats."

Wade had lost the humor on his face for once, looked at Logan wearily. "I'm not the one you have to fear," he said. "I never was, James."

Logan ran a finger down the man's face, and Wade shut his eyes.

"Don't," he said bitterly. "Just don't--"

But their lips found one another's somehow, and the kiss was sweet, sincere. The opened door bled the warmth of the cabin out.

"Yeah, right," Wade murmured as they pulled apart. "Just play it cool, kiss me goodbye."

But Logan drew him back in, shut the door. They stared at each other for a moment, and then their bodies met again.

Wade was a little confused. Nothing was ever straightforward with Logan, James, whatever he called himself. What was hello, what was goodbye? You never knew just how much he was going to give, or why.

It suited Wade, though. He always had been the kind of guy who took what he could and never worried about it. Even if this was another goodbye, it was still more than he ever would have thought he would have back at the airport that day. So, as long as they were both still alive, maybe there would always be that little chance of squeezing some more blood from the turnip. In any case, it would always be fun to try.

**10**

"Ow. Owww. Ouch," Wade complained in a bored monotone, before he yelped with genuine pain, "Ow! Hey, this is supposed to be foreplay, not after-play."

"Shut up."

"And I said I'd replace the damn beer, anyway. Sheesh. You're the one that still buys bottles, even though cans are-- oww-- superior."

Logan sighed, giving the man a series of hard, fast slaps. Wade squirmed and whined, but stopped commenting, at least. Logan sat back against the headboard of the bed, pausing the spanking to take a drag from the cigar in his mouth and dump some ashes onto the nightstand ash tray.

"Hmph." Wade sulked, strewn over the man's lap listlessly, and leaned his face on a hand. "You're such a jerk."

"You love it." Logan put the cigar aside and resumed spanking him, his palm flat and hard against the young man's bare, reddening skin. "And you need it. Stop acting like you don't."

_But it wouldn't be fun if I didn't sulk, _thought Wade. Out loud, he said haughtily, "I don't need this. And I thought you weren't responsible for me, anyway?"

"I'm not, but that doesn't mean I can't at least give you a little _push_--" He slapped the man's bottom hard, smirked at the shudder beneath the softness. "--in the right direction."

"So, lesson learned, never waste a beer addicts' supply," Wade grumbled. "I get it."

"This isn't only about the beer, Wade."

Wade lifted his head. "It isn't?"

"No, not entirely," Logan said. "It's more about you being a stupid, crazy, twisted little _brat_, and you know it. And you do need it, otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"Uh, it turns me on?"

Logan snickered. "Obviously, but it isn't just that, is it?" He shifted the man's tall frame on his lap, propping his backside a little higher. "You know what I think, Wade?"

"Can we have this conversation face-to-face?"

"No." Logan started over, "You know what I think, Wade?"

He emphasized each word with a harder, more resounding spank. Wade flinched. "Okay, okay! Spill."

"I think you don't really want to be such a bad person, but you're too lazy to put the effort into being a good one," Logan told him seriously. "I think you want me with you so much because you want me to _force _you to be a good boy."

"Yeah, you can teach me to be good because _you're_ such a good person."

"No, because I'm not." Logan glanced at him, but could not see his face, and wondered if it was sinking in. "You know I understand you, Wade. You know I've been like you. That's why you think I would be the one to teach you."

Wade was silent.

"You think I can teach you what makes me just that little bit different from you," Logan said quietly. "You think maybe I could scold you and spank you and lecture you into at least trying to stop being such a bastard. Your father obviously never could, but you never gave up that tiny bit of hope that someone else might be able to."

Wade made a scornful sound, rolled his eyes. "Save me, Logan, save me from myself," he intoned sarcastically.

"I think some part of you means it." Logan stopped spanking him, let his hand rest on the youth's hot behind. "But I'm not a hero, and I'm not gonna try to be one. I couldn't save my parents. I couldn't save Victor. I might not even be able to save myself, Wade. I'm not going to add you to the list of all the people I've failed to save."

Logan sat Wade up, held him in his arms. Wade collapsed into his strong embrace, warm and blushing warmly He was no longer very turned on, instead feeling mildly punished and given up on. His fault, he thought, all of it. He was too stubborn, refused to let it be anything more than a game, no matter how gratifying it really was, no matter how Logan did try to persuade him. He made himself hopeless, and so he _was _hopeless.

"It's because," he said slowly, looking up at the man, "I won't let you."

"Huh?"

"I won't let you save me," Wade said. "That's what it really is, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's part of it." Logan patted the youth's bottom. "So, this is going to have to do, right?"

"I deserve a lot more."

Logan's brow furrowed. It was rare for Wade to feel admit guilt in anything, and now he saw just how deeply the guilt really ran inside him. _Poor thing,_ he thought. _He has no idea that life has a way of punishing you itself, and when it gets him, he's really gonna get it. I wish I could just treat him like a kid and discipline him into being good._

_But what the hell **is** good, anyway? How the hell could I begin to teach him when I don't even know? He had a father he didn't listen to, but I barely even had any kind of father. I wish I had had even the turmoil he had. This kid's just too bullheaded, too ungrateful. I can't do anything about that now._

"Oh well, I blame society," Wade shrugged off his self-doubts. He squirmed, pouted. "You're no prize yourself. How the hell do you hit so hard?"

Logan smiled, shook his head. _Hopeless_.

"Practice."

Wade crawled over him, kissing him passionately. "Makes perfect, right?" He stroked Logan's bearded face, pressed his forehead to the man's. "I'll miss you, James."

"I'll miss you, kid," Logan admitted. Then, he put his fingers to the youth's lips. "Just not that mouth."

"Oh _really_?"

Wade kissed his fingers, licked his chest.

"Ahhh, well, maybe the mouth a little bit."

"Ah ha."

They laughed.

_This is what I came for, isn't it? _Wade thought to himself. _I knew he wouldn't come with me. I knew that. But I didn't want it to end so dramatically lame at the airport. This is good. I can live with this. _

_Let it end like this. Okay? End theme plays, credits roll . . . and Logan and I fade to black. **Together**._

_Yeah, that's cool._

**Epilogue**

Five years ticked by, and Logan did not see Wade again after that night. Even with Kayla by his side (he moved her in after Wade's cryptic remarks, just in case), Logan would occasionally find his mind drifting to the young merc (and his mouth). He wondered if he was okay, though the question always gave him an ominous feeling, as he knew Wade walked a very fine line over some very dangerous explosives.

At last, the word came. It came from a face Logan had hoped never to see again, William Stryker. He made ominous remarks and threats, told Logan that the old team was being hunted down, showed Logan the obituary of poor, quiet Chris Bradley. Though Logan played it all off with aloof nonchalance, saying it didn't involve him, all he could think of were those first, callous words,

"_Wade's dead."_

It had been coming for years. He had no time to mourn the young man, no one to share the memories of him with, no words that could be spoken, no grave to visit. It was another scar to his battered soul, just another unpleasant truth filed away among the rest. In a way, that hurt more than anything else.

The reality of it hit Logan during a quiet, brief moment alone on the mountainside where his cabin lay alone. Kayla was inside sleeping, and it was the dead of night. He thought of Wade and he, lying in that very same bed, and wondered. He wondered about Wade's warnings, about his own choices.

_Was I wrong?_

He had been trying to avoid that all-encompassing doubt, but was unable to. The stars stared coldly down at him, mercilessly, as the cold bit through his bare skin. He had made his choices, and Wade was gone. Victor was gone. Everyone was gone.

"_Just play it cool, and kiss me goodbye."_

The sarcastic accusation bit through Logan, and he exhaled, breath visible against the cold air. In that moment, he knew. He knew what he was.

_I'm a coward, _he thought. _I didn't even try. I never try, not when there's risk. That's why I'm here with Kayla, where it's safe and warm. I ran away. And now the kid's gone, and I didn't even try to save him. What a waste. What a goddamn waste._

_In the end, it was me that was hopeless._

Logan shook his head, glancing into the cabin. He wished he could say that Kayla was a second chance, a chance to salvage his soul through, anything, but he couldn't. What was she? Comfort? Delusion? Or was she destined to be one of the many failures in his life? Who could tell?

Wade had seemed to know.

Logan shook off the thoughts, looked out at the sky. "Hope you know I did care about you, kid," he murmured. His hand went to his neck, and he remembered that he had let Wade keep the dog tags. He wondered who had them now? "I wished I could have been brave enough to love you. But we were two of a kind, right? Maybe you were braver than me. Maybe you will turn out to be right in the end, you and Victor."

He glanced back in at Kayla, knew who would be the one that ended up paying the price for that. He never prayed, never had much religion or spirituality, but--

"God. I hope not."

– END –


End file.
